Range War
by geturkicks66
Summary: A range war is brewing and Heath is caught in the middle of it!


Range War

By geturkicks66

Early evening at the Barkley ranch Heath had escaped the house to groom his horse. As he quietly brushed Charger, he listened to the sounds that signaled the days end: the horses in their stalls, relaxed and eating their hay, tin plates rattled as Cook put them away into their cupboard 'til morning. Over in the smithy he could hear O'Brien working the bellows on the forge as he warmed it up. From the main house, he heard the kitchen door slam, Heath smiled, as listened to the jingling of spurs as they approached the barn. After a year and a half of living here, he never tired listening to those sounds.

Nick interrupted the stillness of the evening when he came bounding into the barn bellowing, like a bull moose during mating season. "Heath!" looking around he spotted his brother in Charger's stall. Supported by the stall door Heath looked at Nick waiting for the news the man seemed about to burst with.

"You remember Steve Lewis in Wyoming Territory?" he asked and before Heath could reply, he continued. "Last winter took a toll on the cattle. Lewis lost most of his herd and has decided to sell out."

"I had heard something about that." Heath pushed himself off the stall door and continued to curry Charger. "What's that got to do with us?" He hid a half smile when Nick yelled, "Why, boy, he wants to give us first choice on his remuda!" he slapped Heath on the shoulder. "Two hundred head of his finest stock!"

"And what all does that entail?" Heath asked as he switched to the soft brush and continued grooming. Heath was thinking that they did need more saddle stock for the spring round up.

"Lewis wants us to come up in a few days. That way we can look over the stock." said Nick growing a bit impatient and started to pace in front of Charger's stall. He stopped watching Heath as he ran his hand over the bay gelding's foreleg. "We could call the trip a bit of a vacation."

Heath stood up, "Got cabin fever?"

Nick smiled, "Yea, something like that." Nick could see that the idea was sounding very good to Heath.

"Are we going to drive them home? Or ship them?" asked Heath.

"Shipping them by rail would be costly. Do you know what the railroad is charging a head? We could drive them for less."

"What about water and grass?" asked Heath gathering the brushes and exiting the stall. "Hasn't been much rain. The grass is going to be short."

"Grass should be alright thru Nevada and Utah, and when we swing south the grass should be more plentiful."

"And water?" asked Heath again putting the brushes into a small bucket that hung on a wooden peg in the tack room.

"It will be there." Nick declared. Heath thought he heard some doubt, but did not push the issue.

"Alright, big brother, let's do it.," said Heath giving his brother

"Green River folk!" called out the conductor as he moved through the passenger car. A few passengers began to gather their belongings. Nick looked over at his brother who sat slumped in his seat, his tan hat pulled down over his eyes and arms folded across his chest. Leaning forward, he gave his brother's knee a nudge. Heath raised his head at the same time pushing his hat back onto his blond head. He gave him a lopsided grin and rose to follow Nick off the train.

After two days on that rattling contraption, it was good to be standing on solid ground. Heath stretched. Nick had convinced the family that it would be a good investment and with their blessings, they had left the next morning.

"We'll get the horses settled at the livery. Then we'll find us a place to sleep." said Nick as they headed for the livestock car.

"I could use a hot meal," replied Heath as he rubbed his stomach. Nick laughed "You buying?"

Opening the door to the car, they were welcomed with nickers from their mounts. Charger snorted and pawed at the bedding in his stall while Coco stood patiently, waiting to be unloaded. "Well let's get them out of here," supposed Nick moving into the car to untie Coco. As if to agree, Charger bobbed his head.

Locating the livery, the brothers stabled their horses and made their way to the hotel the livery stable holster directed them to.

"He was right, it's nothing to brag about," said Nick eyeing the ramshackle building. Heath adjusted his bedroll on his shoulder.

"I don't care what the building looks like Nick, if they serve a good meal, I'll be happy."

Stepping through the front door Nick grumbled. "Looks just as bad in here as it did out there." Heath gave him a side-glance and approached the hotel desk. The man that greeted them was a comical looking fellow with a balding head, and large eyes behind thick glasses. He greeted them with a sniveling voice. He had lived his entire life in this town. He had never stood on his own, always the bug on someone's boot heel.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" he asked gazing at them. Nick leaned on the counter nodding his head.

"We need a room for the night."

"And a good meal," added Heath, before the clerk could reply.

Taking a key off the wall, he handed it to Nick. "It will be $2 a night." Nick took the key and paid the money, all the while grumbling about the cost. "Would you please sign the register?" as Nick signed the hotel book the clerk told Heath where they could find a meal. The clerk glanced at the names Nick had entered into the registry, then back to Heath, his eyes even larger.

Seeing the clerks shocked expression, Heath asked, "Is there something wrong?" Sam shook his head as he looked into the steel blue eyes before him. Nodding his thanks Heath followed Nick up the stairs to their room. Sam Dodson glanced again at the name that had caught his attention. He knew what he had to do. Glancing at the clock behind the desk, it read six thirty. At this late hour, most of the businesses, except the assayer's office would have closed.Sam pushed his glasses back up his nose, glanced up the stairs, then quickly left the hotel.

Sam knew that there was one person who would be glad to hear that Heath Barkley was in town.

Range War: part 2

The room was small, the gold paper that hung on the walls now faded with time and neglect told of its once regal stature. One wall held bunks and the other held a dresser with a pitcher and bowl.

"Not much for two dollars," snorted Nick.

"We are staying the night, Nick, not living here. Let's go get some supper." Heath tossed his stuff onto a bunk, and then headed back out the door.

Sam was surprised, Steve had mentioned that he had some gunfighters coming and he had mentioned Heath Barkley. He made his way to the assayer's office. Steve Lewis was sitting in a chair drinking coffee with Jerry Sanders when Sam entered.

"Sam, what can I do for you?" Steve asked sitting his cup on the desk. Steve Lewis was a short man. His once brown hair had lightened from age. He was a calculating man, a gambler. He would gamble with the devil, if it got him what he wanted, and he did not care who it hurt along the way. He thought of himself as a king, and the people around him pawns to be used to his benefit. He knew men. He could sniff out their weakness, and use it against them, all in the name of profit.

Sam was hesitant, unsure he wanted to say anything in front of Sanders, but he managed to spit out the words.

"Heath Barkley is in town."

Steve nodded and Sam quickly left. A slow smile spread across Lewis's face. The board was set. Heath Barkley was a pawn in his game and the game would begin tonight. He looked at Sanders,

"Now it's time you start earning your pay."

Sanders had always been a bully. His intimidating size made it easy for him in school. His father had been a farmer and being a farmer's son he had to do chores that built his physical strength. Sanders had no love for the land. When his father died, he sold everything that the bank hadn't taken, and left. He worked on the docks, sailed on ships. He used his fists or gun to settle any dispute, and it gave him power. With this power, he became what he was today, a hired bully with a gun. He was good at what he did. He got the results that he needed to get, with no questions asked. Lewis had sent for him. To set this plan into action he needed Sanders and so far, the plan was going smoothly.

Sheriff Herb Nobler was sixty- three years old. What hair he had left he hid up under his hat. Herb had lived in Green River for twenty- some years. With his wife Beatrice, they had traveled from Ohio to start a ranch. However, the winters were hard and the loss was great. He moved the family into town and opened the mercantile. They had two children, a daughter Suzann, who married and moved to Denver. Their son, Ben died in Tennessee during the war. He now lay in the church cemetery next to his mother.

Sheriff Herb Nobler, had been at the jailhouse when he seen the two men unload their horses from the train and take them to the livery. He had also seen them go into the hotel. After awhile he watched as Sam made his way to the assayer office then returned to the hotel. He glanced at the open door of the only cell in the jailhouse, where his friend Joe Causemaker lay sleeping. They both knew that Steve Lewis was up to something. They had known for sometime trouble was brewing. You don't bring in men like Jerry Sanders without knowing that you're going to stir things up. There also the rumors, more like saloon stories. They said that an unknown person had sent for a gunfighter. Then this afternoon two strangers get off the train. If it had been just the two of them, Sheriff Nobler wouldn't have thought much about it. When they unloaded the horses, the Sheriff knew that trouble had arrived.

Joe stirred, and then sat up rubbing his eyes, then stretching as he stood. He shuffled out into the office. Herb handed him a cup of coffee, and waited for the man to tell him what he had learned about the two visitors. Joe shook his head and grimaced after the first swallow, "Herb, you need to learn how to make coffee!"

Herb smiled at his young friend. "You just like going to the Blue Bird to make eyes at that pretty waitress, Nancy."

Joe sat on the edge of the old oak desk. "I sent a few wires, in regarding those two strangers, and I did manage to find out who they are."

Herb leaned back in his chair waiting. "Well? Who are they?" he asked when Joe sat smiling over his cup.

"They are the Barkley brothers, out of Stockton, California."

"And just tell me how you got that information?"

"I may have taken a glance at the hotel registration book, after Sam left." Joe green eyes smiled at Herb. _He looks like the cat that ate the canary!_

Herb looked into his cup. "Are they any relation to that lawyer fellow, Jarrod Barkley?"

Joe stood up and walked over to the stove. He took down the potholder and reached for the coffee pot. Lifting the pot, he poured himself another cup. Nodding to Herb, as he set the pot back onto the stove and returning the potholder to its peg on the wall. Turning to face Herb, he said, "They are." Herb sighed _Lordy that was all they needed. _"What else?"

Joe leaned against the wall looking out the window. "They are here to buy horses from Steven Lewis."

Herb let out a sigh of relief, but looking at Joe, he knew there was more. "Well, what is it Joe?"

Joe looked at the sheriff, "There is a rumor in town, that the youngest brother may be a gunfighter."

"Think there's any truth to it?" asked Herb. He watched Joe sit his empty cup on the desk then walk towards the door. Joe took his gun belt from the peg and put it on.

"Think I'll go get me a beer, might even git in on a game of poker." Joe opened the door at the same time he grabbed his hat, turning back to the sheriff he smiled, "Don't wait up for me, boss." Herb chuckled at the closed the door.

After a meal at the Blue Bird Cafe, Nick and Heath located a saloon across the street. As they walked thru the batwing doors, they glanced around taking in the crowd. The long mahogany bar stood at the back of the building. Several tables stood between the bar and the door. An old piano stood just inside the door, a very attractive saloon girl was plunking out a tune. Getting the attention of the barkeep, they each ordered a beer. Heath turned to watch the nearest table that held a poker game. Nick sighed knowing Heath would eventually leave to join the game. "Poor fools," he thought as Heath slipped into an empty chair.

"Nick Barkley? Glad to see that you made it!" said a voice with a slight Texas drawl, at Nick's right elbow.

Turning to meet the man, he smiled with recognition, sticking out his hand. "Hey! Lewis, it's good to see ya! How are ya doing?"

"Better, now that you're here. You come here alone?" Steve looked around the saloon he had noticed Sanders come into the saloon. Sanders hesitated at the door, made eye contact with Lewis, and then headed toward the poker table.

"No, I brought my brother, Heath with me. He is a better at judging horse flesh," laughed Nick, gesturing toward the poker table. "He's wiping these poor fools out of their hard earned wages." he chuckled.

Together Nick and Steve watched the poker game. Soon the game became a match between two players, Heath and Jerry Sanders. Heath signaled to Nick that this was to be his last hand. Sanders dealt the cards. He picked up his cards and tossed two out, retrieved two from the deck then waited on Heath.

Heath leaned back in his chair. Casually he arranged the cards in his hand. He tossed out a few coins, raising the pot. Surprised that Heath hadn't discarded, Sanders also raised. With a slight nod from Heath, Sanders silently laid his cards out on the table. A pair of ladies He smiled at Heath, who shrugged and laid his cards out. Sanders slammed his fist to the table as he looked at Heath's cards. "Looks like a full house beats your pair, Sanders." whistled a green-eyed cowboy. Sanders face was red as he leaned forward to whisper into Heaths ear.

Nick had taken it all in and smiled when Heath bested Sanders. He watched as Sanders spoke to Heath. Nick noticed Heath stiffened, and then stood up. He was about to see what was going on when Steve interrupted his movement from the bar. "Nick, we will be seeing you and your brother in the morning then?"

Nick took his eyes from Heath to look at Steve. Remembering why they were there, he smiled, "We'll see ya in the morning. Have the coffee hot!" he said, shaking Steve's hand before the rancher left the saloon. Turning back to Heath, he found his brother watching him. Nick couldn't read Heath's blue eyes, but thought that there was despair in them. What ever Sanders had said to Heath, had the boy tighter than a wagon spring.

Gently patting Heath's shoulder they left the saloon.

Chapter 3

The sun had been up for a few hours, casting its golden glow over the landscape. Two riders moved at an easy pace. The sounds of creaking leather from their saddles and their horses breathing was the only sound coming from the pair. Nick hadn't tried to get Heath to tell him what had happen between him and Sanders. He figured if he pushed to get the information Heath would clam up tighter. No, he would wait until Heath was ready to tell him, but the boy was making it hard to be patient.

Lewis met them when they rode into the yard. "Step down, boys! The coffee is hot!" Nick nodded his head and dismounted. "Sounds good!" he turned, noticed that Heath was still mounted. "I'll take care of the horses, Nick." Not wanting to push his brother, Nick handed Heath his horse's reins, patted Heath's leg then followed Lewis into the house.

Stepping out of the saddle, Heath gave a gentle pull on the reins; the two horses followed Heath as he led them to the water trough. Sanders had watched the brothers' ride into the ranch yard. After Lewis had taken Nick into the house, he stepped out of the bunkhouse as Heath approached the water trough.

"Nice morning! Ain't it?" asked Sanders as he placed his leg on the trough and leaned onto his knee. Heath looked at him without saying a word. Sanders straightened and adjusted his gun belt, and stepped closer to Heath. "Now, you had better be sociable or I will carry out my promise I made to you last night." Heath again remained silent and Sanders moved off toward the barn to saddle horses for himself and Lewis.

Heath let out the breath he was holding. Patting his horse on the neck, he checked his girth. The then turned and rolled a smoke, all the while surveying the ranch layout. He also thought about the threat that Sanders had made last night: _"If you don't do as I tell you, your brother will pay the price."_ It was a simple threat. It hit him where it would hurt the most, his family, his heart. Heath had no idea what Sanders wanted. He had a good idea that Lewis was behind it. Therefore, to protect Nick, he would do as they asked, until he could get Nick safely out of the way. Then he would deal with them.

Lewis and Nick came out of the house laughing. Heath mounted his horse and rode over to meet Nick. At the same time, Sanders came out of the barn leading two saddled horses. Nick took the reins of his horse. "Let's go look at these horses you keep bragging about!" together they rode out of the yard toward the range where Lewis kept the horses.

The horses came galloping over the ridge like water running over a dam. They flew down through a sparse stand of Aspen trees and into the open meadow, tossing their heads and snorting into the wind. They swept by the four mounted men, their hooves churned up the turf, sending dirt clods flying, their manes rising and falling like waves on the ocean. The morning sun danced across their backs, grullas, duns, grays, red roans, blue roans, palominos, bays, and blacks. Heath sat in wonderment, thinking how their colors reminded him of an old patchwork quilt that Hannah had made.

Lewis's men forced the herd into a circled to get them stopped. Nick looked over at Heath. He could tell that Heath liked what he saw. Giving Nick a glance Heath moved toward the herd. Slowly he circled around the milling horses, stopping occasionally to write in his notebook. Then he returned to Nick.

"Well?" asked Nick. As Heath glanced over the notes, he had taken.

"There is a total of two hundred and thirty head. Only 66 of them are worth considering." Heath said still looking over his notes, "Of the 66 only 42 head are worth taking home."

Nick thought for a moment, and then looked at Lewis. "We'll take the 42, Heath has chosen."

"My boys will help you sort them. You just tell them which ones." nodded Lewis

For the better part of the day, they sorted out the 42 horses. Occasionally Nick had asked, "Why not that blue roan mare?" or "How about that bay?" and Heath would explain to him just why he didn't like her. "She is long backed and ewe necked." or "Has a bowed tendon." Heath looked at Nick, "Something that isn't going to wear the Barkley brand!" Nick grinned. Heath was taking pride in the Barkley name. "Ok, I'll trust your judgment, Heath!"

They ran the horses into a large corral at Lewis's ranch. "That's a big herd for just two men to handle.", stated Lewis. Nick nodded in agreement. "Yea I'll wire Jarrod this afternoon. Have him send a couple men to help drive them home." Lewis turned to Sanders, "Why don't you take Heath out and show him that stallion." it was not a question but an assertion and Heath picked up on it. Following along Heath nodded his head, "I'd like to see him." Nick was about to interject when Heath put him at ease, "You go send that wire to Jarrod, Nick. I'll catch up to ya later." Before Nick could say anything, Heath and Sanders rode out toward Moss Peck.

Once they were out of site of the ranch, Sanders slowed so that Heath could ride next to him. He looked over at the younger man and smirked "You know there ain't a stallion." Heath nodded pulling his horse to a halt. "What is it you want, Sanders?" he asked the man when he rode even with Heath. "You and I are going to pay the neighbors a little visit." Heath frowned. Sanders crossed his arms resting them on the saddle horn. "See Mr. Barkley, this is cow country. Has been, always will be." Sanders looked over the land where they sat then lifted his arm pointing, "Just over that rise is the enemy. They must be taught that this is cow country and we have no intention of letting sheep graze on the grass that we need for cattle." Heath let out a heavy sigh, "So you want me to help you start a range war?" Sanders smiled. "You catch on quick." He kicked his horse into a lope and Heath resentfully followed.

Nick had ridden back to Green River to send off the wire to Jarrod. He was stepping out of the telegraph office when a thin grizzly looking man stopped him. Thinking that he had bumped into him Nick apologized and started to leave, the older man grabbed his arm.

"Mr. Barkley, I am Herb Nobler, sheriff of Green River. You got a minute?" he asked as he released Nicks arm. Turning to face him Nick asked, "What seems to be the problem?"

"It might not be anything. I just need to ask you some questions." the Sheriff looked around "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" Puzzled Nick nodded and followed the sheriff into the Blue Bird.

Taking a seat and served coffee, the sheriff hesitantly asked, "How long have you known Steve Lewis?"

Nick took a sip of his coffee studying the older man over the brim of his cup. "Met him at a cattle auction in Denver, Colorado, I'd say it was about two years ago. I don't really know him." the sheriff nodded then pushed on.

"Lewis has been here for almost 14 years. He had bought his ranch from Mrs. Johnston. Her husband had been killed in the war." Nobler glanced out into the street; he knew that he didn't need to give Mr. Barkley a history lesson. He needed the time to feel the man out, to get a better understanding of him. Nobler cleared his throat. "Ahh, your brother…" he trailed off when he seen Nicks jaw tighten. He cleared his throat again and dove into the question, "Is he a gunfighter?" Nick leaned back in his chair, letting a brief smile show on his face.

"Heath is good with a hand gun and better with a rifle. To answer your question, no he isn't a gunfighter." Nick noticed that the sheriff seemed to relax a bit, but still wore the worried look.

"Is there something else that I need to know sheriff? Is Heath in any trouble?" asked Nick leaning forward in his chair concern filling his eyes. Nobler nodded, "I think that Lewis is using your brother and this gunfighter reputation to start a range war."

Nick narrowed his eyes with concern, thinking that it explained his brother's actions of late. Looking at Nobler he asked, "What do you want from me?" Nobler hesitated when the server stopped to refresh his coffee. "We need your help, to stop Lewis." the voice came from a tall man with wide shoulders and narrow hips. His dressed as a cowhand and moved with ease of one who knew how to handle himself. Before taking a seat, he stuck his hand out, "Joe Causemaker, U.S. Marshal." he introduced himself. Nick shook the man's hand as he sat down.

Riding up to where Sanders sat on his horse, Heath looked over the land. In the distance, he could see a flock of sheep. Short shrill whistles drifted to where the two riders sat, as the Shepard guided his dog to the position that best kept the flock together. Heath watched as the black and white dog moved quickly to obey the commands. Sanders had pulled his rifle out of the scabbard.

"What are you are you planning to do Sanders?" asked Heath even though he had a good idea. Sanders smiled, "Told ya this is cattle country. We need to get rid of those sheep." Heath didn't like the idea, but he was convinced that they would keep their promise. If he didn't help them, they wouldn't just kill Nick, they would go after the whole family. Letting loose a heavy sigh, Heath pulled his rifle also. Sanders laughed shaking his head. He lowered the rifle, "Tomorrow night, we're going to have us a bit of fun!" Sanders face turned serious, "You meet me here, at nine o'clock." he moved his horse closer to Heath's and leaned over so that he was mere inches from Heath's face, "If your not here, your brother will be dead!"

Chapter 4

Marshal Causemaker took a seat next to the sheriff. Nick recognizing, the marshal as the cowboy that had played poker with Heath the night before, gave him a smile. Not one to beat around the bush, Causemaker got straight to the point. "Your brother was in the war. Part of a sharpshooter outfit?"

Nick nodded his head "Yea. Like I told the sheriff, he's real handy with that rifle." He took a sip of his coffee, not liking where this conversation was heading. Nevertheless, if Heath was in trouble, then he was going to be there to help his little brother and that meant listening to the marshal. Setting the cup back onto the table, he glared at the two officers. "So what you're saying is that Lewis is trying to start this war by allowing sheep onto the range. Then letting my brother do the dirty work by picking off a few shepherds? Why would Lewis go through all the trouble? Heath wouldn't go along with that! Unless…" he trailed off thinking.

"Unless, they are using something or someone against him." pushed Joe.

Nick sat for a moment and then his eyes went dark "They're using me to get to him," he growled, realization hitting him, "Lewis is using me, to get Heath to do what they want."

Joe asked the next question, "Do you know where your brother could be right now?"

Nick waved his hand with impatience, "Sanders, took him out to Moss Peak to look at a stallion."

The marshal and the sheriff looked at each other. "Mr. Barkley, Jerry Sanders is a hired gun," informed Nobler. "And the only thing at Moss Peak is a sheep camp."

Nick stood up so fast that he nearly knocked over his chair. "I have to find Heath!"

"Just a minute, simmer down!" replied the sheriff. "You asked why Lewis is doing this. He is doing this to scare the sheepherder. If the cattlemen sell out and the sheepherders don't move in, who gains? This is more of a land grabbing deal. With no one to oppose Lewis, he has free reign over the whole basin. Lewis didn't lose as many cattle as the rest of the ranchers."

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The sun was setting behind the hills as Heath and Sanders rode back towards town. At a fork in the road they stopped. Sanders smirked, "Better keep in mind what I've told ya, Barkley, and I'll see ya tomorrow." Kicking his horse, Sanders took the road to the right, towards Lewis's Ranch, leaving Heath alone on the dirt road that headed towards Green River.

Heath watched as Sanders rode away. Making up his mind, he kicked his horse into a lope and headed back toward the sheep camp. As he rode, Heath kept an eye on his back trail, making sure he wasn't followed. Topping the hill, where a few hours ago he and Sanders had sat, Heath took in the camp below.

The camp was nestled between the hills, protected from the winds that blew across the treeless landscape; he continued to watch the shepherd and the dog. He counted two tents and two sheep wagons parked on either side of the tents. Women were working around a fire, preparing the evening meal, the smells of the cooking food was muted by the overpowering smell of sheep, while the men sat around the fire, talking. Hearing the sounds of the approaching horse, the camp became still.

Hostile eyes watched him approach. Heath was not expecting a grand welcome; he just wanted to warn these men. Warning them would give them a chance to protect their families and stock.

Heath pulled Charger to a halt in front of the group that had assembled by the wagons. Two black and white dogs surged forward barking and snapping at Charger's heels. Charger began to prance, almost in place, instincts telling him to bolt. Heath murmured soft words to the horse and patted his neck trying to calm the spooked horse. The bay's ear's flicked back listening to the calm voice and the horse soon settled.

From the front of the group, a man of medium height stepped forward. His clothing had seen better days; the pants were baggy and the old coat was missing too many buttons to actually do any good against the cold. And despite the run down clothing, this man clearly had a strong determination, that against all odds, he was going to survive. "Cookie, Blu, that'll do!" At the command, both dogs returned to the man. Heath heard the shepherd praise the dogs, "Good lads, down." Both dogs lay at the man's feet, watching Heath, and ready to move at the man's command.

Heath let his gaze wander over the group. He counted ten men and three women. They were hard-working folks, trying to make a living raising sheep. They were weary from traveling and fighting, scraping out an existence in a land that didn't like sheep grazing on the grasses that would fatten the big rancher's cattle. They are proud people who would die fighting to protect their livelihood. Heath gave them a nod of his head and rested his eyes on the representative for the group.

"What do ya want?" asked the man, with a hint of a Scottish accent "We haven't been a killn' any of your cattle."

"No, sir that's not why I'm here," replied Heath. Shifting in his saddle, with a keen eye, he noticed the rifle barrels behind the sheep wagons, pointed his way. At least these people were cautious.

"Then what do ya want?" repeated the man. The strong smell of coffee drifted on the breeze and Heath's stomach growled, reminding him of the hour.

"Coffee sure smells good," commented Heath. The Jules McAllemond took a longer look at the man on the horse. He was different from the others that had come to the camp; he was willing to talk first. Jules turned his head to the group and lifted his chin. A woman picked up a cup, poured some coffee then stepped forward and handed it to Jules.

"Why don't ya step down and have a cup?" invited Jules. Slowly Heath dismounted and stepped in front of his horse holding onto one rein. All his movements were slow and purposeful. He took the offered cup of coffee, giving the man in front of him a slight smile; he stuck out his other hand.

"I'm Heath Barkley." He could read the surprise on the other man's face.

'Ahh, the gunfighter!" said Jules with a twinkle in his eyes. Heath grunted and smiled.

"I'm not a gunfighter."

Taking Heath's extended hand, "Jules McAllemond." he introduced himself. Jules turned to his right, "This is Ed Steele." A man similar in build as Jules stepped forward, taking Heath's hand.

"What can we do for you, Mr. Barkley?" asked Ed. Heath took a sip of the coffee. It was good; of course, Heath always liked coffee brewed over an open fire.

"I'd like to talk to ya."

"Go ahead, ain't nobody stopping you!" called a voice within the group. It brought a few chuckles. Heath nodded towards the wagon on the left.

"Don't feel real friendly, when ya got those rifles pointed at me, and me comin' in here all peaceable."

"We need to be cautious. If ya hadn't noticed sheep aren't exactly welcome," said Jules as he signaled to the men that it was all right. The rifles came down and the men stepped out from behind the wagons. Although, they looked relaxed, Heath knew that they were still on guard.

Ed made a gesture for Heath to take a seat by the fire. Dropping the rein of his horse, he followed the two men to the fire and took a seat. Jules and Ed took seats on the other side of the fire. The dogs followed in their wake.

Heath nodded towards the dogs, "Those are some fine sheepdogs." Jules looked to Ed.

"Sheep dogs he call'em! Why, those, Mr. Barkley, those two are not just sheepdogs, they are the finest that Scotland has to offer! They are Border Collies! They were brought over here by my great, great grandfather. Their bloodlines go back to the beginning of time! Why, they could stare a grizzly into hibernation in the middle of summer!"

"I didn't mean to offend ya, Mr. McAllemond. I admire a good working dog." Heath's words of peace brought a smile on Jules's face. At that moment Blu, the younger of the two Border Collies, cautiously approached Heath. Holding his hand out so that the dog could smell it, he soon found his hand on top of Blu's head and the dog moved closer.

"How many head do you have?" asked Heath looking out over the flock as he softly stoked Blu's head.

"There are 5,000 head here and another 4,000 coming up from New Mexico," said Jules.

"Winters can be rough on stock."

Ed grunted then took a sip of his coffee. "This was the worst winter I've seen. We had deep snow, followed by a thaw, and then a freeze. There was a sheet of ice so thick over the ground that the cattle couldn't graze on the grass, causing the cattle to starve. Come round up, I had eight steers out of eighty-seven head. The Spur Ranch took a loss; they ran 15,000 head and at spring round up, they had 800 head left. " He set his cup down as one of the women handed him a plate of food. "I figured that the profit and loss of raising sheep will be the same as cattle."

Heath accepted the plate that was handed to him. "When did the trouble start between you and the cattlemen?" he asked taking a bite of the stew.

"When the first sheep herds arrived, early in the spring. The Spur Ranch declared this land off limits to sheep. A few other ranches went along with it." Ed finished his stew and looked at Heath. "Fence sheep in, fence cattle out."

"Mr. Barkley, you still haven't told us why you're here," said Jules.

Heath handed his plate to a woman, who appeared to collect the empty plates and topped off his coffee, "Mr. McAllemond, some of the cattlemen have decided to raid your camp. I'm here to warn ya."

"What makes you think that we believe you?" asked Jules," I seen who you was talking to on the hill." He turned to the group, "It was Sanders, one of Lewis's hired hands!" He turned back to Heath as a quiet roar went through the crowd.

"You don't have to believe me, I just don't like seeing good folks pushed around. As for Sanders, my brother and I came here to buy horses." Heath stood, facing the group.

Ed stepped forward, "What exactly is your role in this raid, _Mr. Barkley_? We hear the rumors in town. We knew you were coming." Knowing that the polite conversation was over, Heath moved back to his horse, with Blu at his heels. He picked up the rein, looked at the ground, then back to Ed.

"I'll be riding with them tomorrow night." Ed heard the soft answer and the regret in the tone and in the man's eyes. This man rode out here to warn them, to give them a chance to save their families and stock, but at what cost to him?

Heath vaulted into the saddle, spun Charger around, and rode off into the darkness towards town. Blu started to follow until Jules hollered, "Blu, here." The young dog looked back at Jules, then back out into the darkness.

Chapter 4

Marshal Causemaker took a seat next to the sheriff. Nick recognizing, the marshal as the cowboy that had played poker with Heath the night before, gave him a smile. Not one to beat around the bush, Causemaker got straight to the point. "Your brother was in the war. Part of a sharpshooter outfit?"

Nick nodded his head "Yea. Like I told the sheriff, he's real handy with that rifle." He took a sip of his coffee, not liking where this conversation was heading. Nevertheless, if Heath was in trouble, then he was going to be there to help his little brother and that meant listening to the marshal. Setting the cup back onto the table, he glared at the two officers. "So what you're saying is that Lewis is trying to start this war by allowing sheep onto the range. Then letting my brother do the dirty work by picking off a few shepherds? Why would Lewis go through all the trouble? Heath wouldn't go along with that! Unless…" he trailed off thinking.

"Unless, they are using something or someone against him." pushed Joe.

Nick sat for a moment and then his eyes went dark "They're using me to get to him," he growled, realization hitting him, "Lewis is using me, to get Heath to do what they want."

Joe asked the next question, "Do you know where your brother could be right now?"

Nick waved his hand with impatience, "Sanders, took him out to Moss Peak to look at a stallion."

The marshal and the sheriff looked at each other. "Mr. Barkley, Jerry Sanders is a hired gun," informed Nobler. "And the only thing at Moss Peak is a sheep camp."

Nick stood up so fast that he nearly knocked over his chair. "I have to find Heath!"

"Just a minute, simmer down!" replied the sheriff. "You asked why Lewis is doing this. He is doing this to scare the sheepherder. If the cattlemen sell out and the sheepherders don't move in, who gains? This is more of a land grabbing deal. With no one to oppose Lewis, he has free reign over the whole basin. Lewis didn't lose as many cattle as the rest of the ranchers."

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The sun was setting behind the hills as Heath and Sanders rode back towards town. At a fork in the road they stopped. Sanders smirked, "Better keep in mind what I've told ya, Barkley, and I'll see ya tomorrow." Kicking his horse, Sanders took the road to the right, towards Lewis's Ranch, leaving Heath alone on the dirt road that headed towards Green River.

Heath watched as Sanders rode away. Making up his mind, he kicked his horse into a lope and headed back toward the sheep camp. As he rode, Heath kept an eye on his back trail, making sure he wasn't followed. Topping the hill, where a few hours ago he and Sanders had sat, Heath took in the camp below.

The camp was nestled between the hills, protected from the winds that blew across the treeless landscape; he continued to watch the shepherd and the dog. He counted two tents and two sheep wagons parked on either side of the tents. Women were working around a fire, preparing the evening meal, the smells of the cooking food was muted by the overpowering smell of sheep, while the men sat around the fire, talking. Hearing the sounds of the approaching horse, the camp became still.

Hostile eyes watched him approach. Heath was not expecting a grand welcome; he just wanted to warn these men. Warning them would give them a chance to protect their families and stock.

Heath pulled Charger to a halt in front of the group that had assembled by the wagons. Two black and white dogs surged forward barking and snapping at Charger's heels. Charger began to prance, almost in place, instincts telling him to bolt. Heath murmured soft words to the horse and patted his neck trying to calm the spooked horse. The bay's ear's flicked back listening to the calm voice and the horse soon settled.

From the front of the group, a man of medium height stepped forward. His clothing had seen better days; the pants were baggy and the old coat was missing too many buttons to actually do any good against the cold. And despite the run down clothing, this man clearly had a strong determination, that against all odds, he was going to survive. "Cookie, Blu, that'll do!" At the command, both dogs returned to the man. Heath heard the shepherd praise the dogs, "Good lads, down." Both dogs lay at the man's feet, watching Heath, and ready to move at the man's command.

Heath let his gaze wander over the group. He counted ten men and three women. They were hard-working folks, trying to make a living raising sheep. They were weary from traveling and fighting, scraping out an existence in a land that didn't like sheep grazing on the grasses that would fatten the big rancher's cattle. They are proud people who would die fighting to protect their livelihood. Heath gave them a nod of his head and rested his eyes on the representative for the group.

"What do ya want?" asked the man, with a hint of a Scottish accent "We haven't been a killn' any of your cattle."

"No, sir that's not why I'm here," replied Heath. Shifting in his saddle, with a keen eye, he noticed the rifle barrels behind the sheep wagons, pointed his way. At least these people were cautious.

"Then what do ya want?" repeated the man. The strong smell of coffee drifted on the breeze and Heath's stomach growled, reminding him of the hour.

"Coffee sure smells good," commented Heath. The Jules McAllemond took a longer look at the man on the horse. He was different from the others that had come to the camp; he was willing to talk first. Jules turned his head to the group and lifted his chin. A woman picked up a cup, poured some coffee then stepped forward and handed it to Jules.

"Why don't ya step down and have a cup?" invited Jules. Slowly Heath dismounted and stepped in front of his horse holding onto one rein. All his movements were slow and purposeful. He took the offered cup of coffee, giving the man in front of him a slight smile; he stuck out his other hand.

"I'm Heath Barkley." He could read the surprise on the other man's face.

'Ahh, the gunfighter!" said Jules with a twinkle in his eyes. Heath grunted and smiled.

"I'm not a gunfighter."

Taking Heath's extended hand, "Jules McAllemond." he introduced himself. Jules turned to his right, "This is Ed Steele." A man similar in build as Jules stepped forward, taking Heath's hand.

"What can we do for you, Mr. Barkley?" asked Ed. Heath took a sip of the coffee. It was good; of course, Heath always liked coffee brewed over an open fire.

"I'd like to talk to ya."

"Go ahead, ain't nobody stopping you!" called a voice within the group. It brought a few chuckles. Heath nodded towards the wagon on the left.

"Don't feel real friendly, when ya got those rifles pointed at me, and me comin' in here all peaceable."

"We need to be cautious. If ya hadn't noticed sheep aren't exactly welcome," said Jules as he signaled to the men that it was all right. The rifles came down and the men stepped out from behind the wagons. Although, they looked relaxed, Heath knew that they were still on guard.

Ed made a gesture for Heath to take a seat by the fire. Dropping the rein of his horse, he followed the two men to the fire and took a seat. Jules and Ed took seats on the other side of the fire. The dogs followed in their wake.

Heath nodded towards the dogs, "Those are some fine sheepdogs." Jules looked to Ed.

"Sheep dogs he call'em! Why, those, Mr. Barkley, those two are not just sheepdogs, they are the finest that Scotland has to offer! They are Border Collies! They were brought over here by my great, great grandfather. Their bloodlines go back to the beginning of time! Why, they could stare a grizzly into hibernation in the middle of summer!"

"I didn't mean to offend ya, Mr. McAllemond. I admire a good working dog." Heath's words of peace brought a smile on Jules's face. At that moment Blu, the younger of the two Border Collies, cautiously approached Heath. Holding his hand out so that the dog could smell it, he soon found his hand on top of Blu's head and the dog moved closer.

"How many head do you have?" asked Heath looking out over the flock as he softly stoked Blu's head.

"There are 5,000 head here and another 4,000 coming up from New Mexico," said Jules.

"Winters can be rough on stock."

Ed grunted then took a sip of his coffee. "This was the worst winter I've seen. We had deep snow, followed by a thaw, and then a freeze. There was a sheet of ice so thick over the ground that the cattle couldn't graze on the grass, causing the cattle to starve. Come round up, I had eight steers out of eighty-seven head. The Spur Ranch took a loss; they ran 15,000 head and at spring round up, they had 800 head left. " He set his cup down as one of the women handed him a plate of food. "I figured that the profit and loss of raising sheep will be the same as cattle."

Heath accepted the plate that was handed to him. "When did the trouble start between you and the cattlemen?" he asked taking a bite of the stew.

"When the first sheep herds arrived, early in the spring. The Spur Ranch declared this land off limits to sheep. A few other ranches went along with it." Ed finished his stew and looked at Heath. "Fence sheep in, fence cattle out."

"Mr. Barkley, you still haven't told us why you're here," said Jules.

Heath handed his plate to a woman, who appeared to collect the empty plates and topped off his coffee, "Mr. McAllemond, some of the cattlemen have decided to raid your camp. I'm here to warn ya."

"What makes you think that we believe you?" asked Jules," I seen who you was talking to on the hill." He turned to the group, "It was Sanders, one of Lewis's hired hands!" He turned back to Heath as a quiet roar went through the crowd.

"You don't have to believe me, I just don't like seeing good folks pushed around. As for Sanders, my brother and I came here to buy horses." Heath stood, facing the group.

Ed stepped forward, "What exactly is your role in this raid, _Mr. Barkley_? We hear the rumors in town. We knew you were coming." Knowing that the polite conversation was over, Heath moved back to his horse, with Blu at his heels. He picked up the rein, looked at the ground, then back to Ed.

"I'll be riding with them tomorrow night." Ed heard the soft answer and the regret in the tone and in the man's eyes. This man rode out here to warn them, to give them a chance to save their families and stock, but at what cost to him?

Heath vaulted into the saddle, spun Charger around, and rode off into the darkness towards town. Blu started to follow until Jules hollered, "Blu, here." The young dog looked back at Jules, then back out into the darkness.

Range War Chapter 6

Heath had put forth a plan to help defend the shepards against the raiders. Nick hadn't liked the idea and had argued against it well into the early morning hours. Finally, with Nick half-heartedly, giving in to the idea, the two brothers crawled into bed.

Given the hour they had gone to sleep, Heath was still up early in the morning. He glanced at Nick's snoring body and slipped out of the room, heading to the café for some coffee.

As he crossed the street, he heard someone call his name. Turning he saw the marshal coming up the walk towards him.

"I figured you'd be sleep'n til noon the next day," said Joe with a smile. _Heath looked like he could sleep for a week, he observed._

"Thought I'd get some coffee," replied Heath as he continued towards the café.

"You and Nick finally work things out last night, then?" asked Joe as he fell into step.

"More or less."

"He worries about you."

Heath gave Joe a lop-sided grin as he entered the café. Given the early hour, the restaurant was almost empty. The smells of fried potatoes, bacon, and coffee hung in the air, making Heath's stomach rumble. The cafe was a narrow wooden building nestled between Tucker's Dry Goods Store and the Telegraph office. The painted across the large window, were the words, The Blue Bird Cafe, with a little blue bird in flight. The narrowness of the building didn't allow for many tables and were along the walls around the big black wood heat stove, which sat in the middle of the room. The kitchen was at the back of the building, blocked from view by a wall with a swinging door. The walls were white washed making the room appear larger. Everything was neat and clean thanks to Nancy.

Nancy Bradley had come west as a mail order bride, something, her mother had said, only a desperate woman would do. She didn't want to be a banker's wife nor a wife of a merchant, her heart lay west, and being a mail order bride was her ticket out of Boston. When she arrived in Green River, the groom to be met her. He took one look at her and walked away, a reaction she had fully expected. Nancy was not fair skinned nor was she a dainty flower, which most men found attractive. She was a woman of substance. She was a tall woman, with the build that would make any hard working man proud to take her as his wife. She could have a baby on one-hip and brand cattle with one hand. Her brown hair was swept up into a bun and her brown eyes were always smiling. These features got Marshal Joe Causemaker's attention.

Taking the table closet to the door, Heath and Joe sat down. Nancy brought over two cups of hot coffee. She sat the cups down and she waited for them to give their orders. Then she hurried off to the kitchen. Joe's eye's followed her every move.

Joe quietly observed the man across from him, noting that Heath missed little that was going on around him. His thoughts were interrupted, when Nancy brought them their food. Joe smiled at Nancy as she refilled his cup, and she smiled back at him. Turning back to his food, he glanced at Heath, knowing the man had seen the exchange.

"What did ya do during the war?" Joe asked, hoping to learn more about the man. Heath's fork hesitated half way to his mouth.

"Tried to survive," he said placing the fork back onto the plate.

Acting nonchalantly, Joe pushed on, taking a bite of his eggs, "The way I hear it, you did more than that." He took a sip of coffee, and then said, "I heard you were a sharpshooter. Must have been hard to look through that scope, knowing that the enemy's last breath on this earth, was in the shot you were about to make." He set his cup down, picked up a piece of bacon, took a bite, then leaning forward, he goaded, "Why I'll bet you even shot the wrong man a time or two." Joe was thinking about what Nancy had told him yesterday, when he had come in for lunch.

_Nancy had seen Joe come in and hurried over with a cup of coffee. He turned to her as he took a seat near the kitchen. He smiled at her, but didn't get one in return. Wondering what was wrong he asked, "Something bothering you, Nancy?" She started to leave then stopped, putting the coffee pot on the table. "Marshal, some Spur riders were in here today, and there is talk."_

_"Well, it's not a crime to want neither to eat nor to talk, last I checked."_

_Nancy lowered her voice, "They were talking about, those shepards. How they were going to show them that this is cattle country," she paused, "and it wasn't just the Spur that was going to do it, but the XO, the Coffin riders and the Rafter K."_

_"Well those are some of the biggest outfits in the area. Did they say how many riders?" asked Joe._

_"Twenty in all and she paused again, "That gunfighter, Barkley, is riding with them." _

Heath leaned back into his chair, watching the marshal eat his bacon, his mind working.

"I had a job to do and did it, that's all. There is no glory in killing another man, in war or otherwise."

"Not much for bragging on yourself are you," said Joe, knowing he had hit a nerve by the hard glint in the blue eyes.

"I've got nothing to prove." Heath quietly replied. He stood, reached into his pocket for a few coins, which he tossed onto the table, and placed his hat on his head as he walked out the door. Joe breathed in a deep sigh, smiling to himself. He had pushed Heath Barkley; just enough to know that the man will make a worthy opponent, who ever Heath's enemy was, he had better be ready.

"_I'd better keep an eye on your back, because someone thinks you got something to prove," _thought Joe as he paid for his meal and started to follow Heath. Instead, he ran head long into Nick. Brushing past him, he looked up and down the street; Heath had vanished.

"Who ya looking for?" asked Nick from the doorway of the café.

"Heath. Did ya see him?" asked Joe looking at Nick wondering why the man was smiling.

"You sat in here for about an hour and didn't learn anything about the boy, did ya?"

Joe ducked his head then looked back towards Nick, "Your brother is very elusive."

Slapping Joe on the back, Nick steered the marshal back into the café. "The secret is, you have to wait until, and he comes to you. Look at it like fishing, you bait the hook, then wait. Come on. You can buy me a cup of coffee."

_**,Range War: part 7**_

As the day wore on, Heath became restless. Nick had spent most of the day going over in his head the plan Heath had made. The plan was simple, or at least it sounded simple: Heath would ride out to meet Sanders as planned. Nick, Marshal Causemaker and Sheriff Nobler would ride out to help the sheperds. Heath swore it would work, Nick still was uncertain.

Nick followed Heath to the livery. He stood watching as Heath saddled his horse, and as he checked the ammunition belt. Heath pulled the Colt Navy .45 out of its holster and checks the rounds. Most men carried five rounds in their guns, leaving the sixth open for safety. Today Heath placed a cartridge in the empty slot. He slid the gun back into its well-oiled leather holster, which hung around his waist. Nick had quietly stood by and watched, something that hadn't gone unnoticed by Heath. Nick was by nature not a quiet person. He was a man of action- actions that usually got him and Heath into trouble on more than one occasion. To see Nick so calm put an ache in Heath's heart knowing that he felt the same way.

Heath gathered the reins; he led his horse out of the barn. As Heath mounted, Nick stepped in and grabbed Charger's bridle.

"Aaahh, Heath," said Nick with so much concern on his face, that Heath was taken by surprise.

Heath leaned forward placing a hand on Nicks shoulder and gave him a lop sided grin, "I know Nick."

Nick looked at the ground, then up at his brother. "Um, you be careful out there. And don't do anything foolish!"

Heath gave him another lop sided grin, "You just be there." Giving Nick a nod he rode out of town, leaving Nick standing in the nearly deserted street.

By Heath's pocket watch, it was six thirty. He was to meet Sanders in the Aspen grove, where they had first gone to see Lewis's horses the day before. Yesterday. _Had it only been yesterday? _Heath thought, shaking his head and wondering at how fast things had gone from good to bad.

The setting sun cast its last rays over the grove before it dropped behind the mountains. Using caution Heath approached the grove from the opposite direction of the town; it also let him observe the group of riders that had gathered there. Some had remained mounted while the others lounged around a small fire drinking coffee. Heath counted twenty men. Slowly he walked his horse into the grove, being cautious to keep his hand clear of his gun.

As he pulled to a stop in front of the fire, Sanders rose and smiled, "Good to see ya Barkley!" the other riders gathered around as Sanders spoke. "Boys, I'd like ya to meet, Heath Barkley. He has been kind enough to throw in with us to rid this land of those sheep loving fools just over that hill." As he spoke, he pointed towards Moss Peak. "These boys represent four of the largest spreads in the area," he said nodding towards the men. Heath made no comment. "Climb out of that saddle, and have a cup of coffee. We're waiting for one more person," said Sanders as he turned back to the fire to get Heath a cup.

"Coffee sounds good," replied Heath as he dismounted, wondering whom the person they were waiting on could be. Looking over the group, he had noticed that Lewis wasn't here. Sanders handed him the now full cup, and continued talking, "We got riders from the Spur, and they are located north of Green River. The XO is south of town and they hold a large portion of the water rights. The Coffin outfit, they are the smallest, but Allen Coffin made sure he got the best grass! And lastly we have the Rafter K."

"Rafter K? Would that be Jess Kannon's brand?" asked Heath.

Sanders nodded, "Do ya know him?"

"Yeah, awhile back I helped trail a herd up from Texas, through the Nations and into Kansas. Kannon was the trail boss." What Heath could remember of Jess Kannon, he knew he would have never agreed with this raid.

A shout went out, "Rider coming in!" Sanders smiled and dumped his unfinished coffee on the fire. He slapped Heath on the arm as he moved toward the incoming rider.

"Now, ya get to meet the boss!"

Heath stood off to the side so he could see the approaching rider as he dropped off the hill. Heath's stomach suddenly flipped as he recognized the rider as the men greeted him.

_Sheriff Herb Nobler! _

The men parted to allow the horse and rider to pass. He nodded to the men then spotted Heath. The sheriff's grin faded and his eyes hardened. Not speaking to Heath, he turned back to the men shouting, "Gentlemen! Let's get mounted! We're hitting that sheep camp in thirty minutes!"

Heath pulled out his watch. It was only seven! They would be hitting the sheep camp an hour earlier than planned! Heath's heart sank: his plan wasn't going to work and he would be alone to help defend the sheepherders.

"A bit early, I know." said a gruff voice. Looking up Heath found himself staring into the eyes of the sheriff. _No, Heath thought, a lunatic. _

A smile played briefly on the sheriff's lips as he said, "I guess this means your brother won't be there to help you out."

**Chapter 8**

Sam spurred his horse towards Green River; his heart beating out a tempo that out raced the horse's pounding hooves as they hit the ground. He had to talk to Marshal Causemaker. The deal with Lewis and the Barkleys, especially Heath was grating on Sam's conscience. And now this! The nightmare that he had just seen, he knew he had to tell everything he knew, about the raid, and the about the sheriff's involvement. He had to tell it all before it killed him!

A wire had come for Lewis. Mike Foley the telegraph operator didn't have the time to run it out to the Lewis ranch. Spotting Sam as he was sweeping the hotel porch, he asked if Sam would run it out. Seeing this as an opportunity to speak with Lewis he said he would deliver the wire.

As he entered the ranch yard he noticed that all the men were gone. It was as quiet as a mausoleum. A chill ran up Sam's spine as he stepped out of the saddle and walked towards the porch. The front door stood open, Sam looked around the ranch yard as he tied his horse to the porch railing.

From the doorway, he called, "Mr. Lewis!" No one answered, "Mr. Lewis? Mike sent me out with a wire!" Still no one answered. Taking a deep breath Sam stepped into the entryway and looked around. As he moved cautiously forward, he found himself in the main room. Rugs lay scattered on the polished wood floor, and the fire place, with its ominous black hole, gaping like the mouth of a monster, that in the winter could heat the room, was dead cold. Another shiver went up Sam's spine.

To the right Sam could see the dinning room, a door to the left led into the kitchen. Calling out again, and receiving no reply, Sam moved through the dining room into the kitchen. He stopped, he gasped, panting like a dog, as he took in the scene before him.

Steven Lewis sat on the floor with his back against the wall. Blood from the hole in his chest had soaked through his shirt and pooled on the floor around him. In his cold lifeless fingers of his right held a gun. Gasping for air, Sam scrambled back the way he had come. At the porch railing he vomited, wiping his mouth, he untied his horse. He stood for a moment leaning against the saddle, waiting for his legs to quit trembling. When he felt he could pull himself into the saddle, he mounted and headed for town.

The door crashed open, and Marshal Joe Causemaker jumped up out the chair looking at the man who burst into the Sheriff's office, scattering the paperwork across the desk. Sam, the clerk from the hotel, stood in front of him leaning on the desk gasping for air. His eyes bulged out of his head making him look like a fish out of water. Coming around the desk, Joe put a concerned hand on the man's arm and guided him to a chair.

"Take it easy there, Sam!" said Joe. "Take deep breaths." Sam complied and was soon breathing normally. He still looked a bit nervous though. "Now, tell me what's got you so riled up?"

Sam stood up and began to pace nervously. Not being able to take any more, Joe grabbed Sam's arm and forced him back into the chair. "Spit it out!" Joe demanded.

Sam ran his hand over his face, "I went out to Lewis,'" he hesitated, "Oh Lordy, it was a mess!" he stood up and started pacing, his hands shaking. He looked into Joes eyes. "Lewis is dead." His head dropped down to his chest, he placed a hand on the back of his neck and sank back down into the chair.

"Dead? Dead!" asked Joe as he sat back down in the sheriff's chair, leaning forward with his arms on the desk, looking at Sam. "You had better tell me everything, Sam."

Sam took a deep breath. "I rode out to the ranch, to deliver a wire that had come in for Lewis. Mike Foley asked me to take it out to him. He was backed up, and need some help."

"What happened when you got out to Lewis'?" Joe urged Sam to continue.

"The ranch was quiet. The corrals were empty and the door on the house was standing open. I -- I, knocked on the door, and when I got no answer, I went inside. That's when I found him. Laying there in a pool of blood, shot in the chest." His voice trailed off and his face paled. As Sam spoke, his eyes held a faraway look as if he were coming upon the bloody scene for the first time. Once again he began to shake and drops of sweat were running down his face. "He's – Lewis -- is dead."

Nick, not being able to take it any more, left his hotel room and headed to the saloon. After a few beers and half listening to the local gossip, he decided to go to the Blue Bird for some dinner, instead settled for coffee. He didn't think he would be able to eat anyway. He'd worried non-stop about Heath since he had left to go meet with Sanders.

From the café window, Nick watched as a rider galloping at a neck breaking speed pulled up in front of the jailhouse. He recognized the rider as Sam from the hotel. As Sam entered the jailhouse Nick leapt from the chair and hurried down to the jailhouse. Bursting through the door, Nick was in time to hear the last three words that Sam spoke.

"Lewis is dead…" Sam repeated, looking at Nick.

Nick looked at Joe for confirmation on what Sam was saying. Joe gave a slight nod of his head. Joe quickly told Nick what Sam had found out at the Lewis ranch. Nick's mind began to race with the implications. The marshal believed that it was Lewis who was behind the range war. With Lewis dead, that meant there was someone else. He looked again at Joe. "I know Nick. We are really in it."

Nick shot across the room grabbing Sam by the front of his shirt, picked him up out the chair and shoved him against the wall.

"I think you know more about what is going on around here than your telling boy!" growled Nick. The implication became clear to both men, if Lewis were dead, that would mean that Heath's thoughts were right, that someone else was involved.

Joe got up and moved to stand next to Nick, "Nick, don't do something your going to regret later!" He placed a restraining hand on Nick's bicep.

Never taking his eyes off Sam, Nick said, "This wouldn't be the first."

Sam's shoulders were up to his ears and he whispered, "Please, Mr. Barkley, I don't know anything!"

Nick released the man and he stumbled back against the wall, but stayed on his feet, looking at Nick, with pleading eyes.

"Sam, What Mr. Barkley is trying to politely trying to ask is that he thinks that you might know something about the raid that is supposed to happen tonight," Joe said.

Sam looked pleadingly at the marshal, shaking his head. "I don't know anything!"

Poking his finger into Sam's chest, Nick growled, "You need to start talking now, boy!"

Like a river flooding its banks Sam let go. Looking into Nick's blazing hazel eyes made him weak in the knees. "What do ya want to know?"

"Start by telling us who is behind this little war!"

"It's… the sheriff," choked out Sam. His eyes darted from Joe to Nick.

"What?" said Nick and Joe at the same time. Sam looked at them nodding his head.

Throwing up his hands, Sam yelped, "I swear it's true!"

"Why?" asked Joe.

"It has to do with his son, Ben."

"His son is dead, Sam, so try again," said Joe.

"Well," he hesitated, wringing his hands, "Yes and no."

"What kind of answer is that?" Nick's voice raised an octave, making Sam even more nervous.

"He is buried in the cemetery, next to his mother!" said Joe.

"Well if you'll let me explain marshal, I'll tell ya." Stuttered Sam as he pushed up his glasses.

"Better be good." Nick growled again.

"His son, he came back from the war… well, most of him anyway." Before Nick could interrupt him, Sam continued, "The man that left here returned, but it was like he was different. Like he was dead inside," Sam gulped. "The sheriff said it was because of a sniper's rifle that his son was the way he was. The Sheriff said that Ben isn't the same man. He is cruel and angry, and he wants revenge."

"Sniper shot?" Joe looked at Nick, both thinking the same thought, "Heath!"

"Why pick Heath?" Joe asked Sam.

Sam shook his head, "That I don't know."

"Sam, have you by chance seen the sheriff this afternoon?" asked Joe, knowing the importance of the answer.

"He rode out here about a half hour ago, heading toward Moss Peak." Joe didn't have to look at Nick to know that he had put it together: The sheriff planned to raid the sheep camp earlier than expected!

The creaking of leather, the jingling of spurs and the breathing of the horses were the only noises made between the twenty-three men as the rode toward their destination. As they horses splashed through the creek, they parted, breaking into two separate groups. Sanders took one group and began to circle around behind the sheep camp. The sheriff kept the other group on its present course, putting the sheep camp between the two groups. The sheriff pulled to a stop when a loan horseman, seemed to materialize out of the darkness. The new rider and sheriff talked in low tones. Soon the new rider moved towards Heath. As the rider approached Heath felt that he knew this man. He was familiar, but Heath also knew it couldn't be possible -- he had seen this man killed! The rider pulled his horse up next to Heath.

"Remember me, _Barkley_?" rasped the voice. "Of course, when I knew you, that weren't the name, you were going by."

"Yeah, Ben I remember ya," drawled Heath quietly.

"Good. By the end of tonight, you won't be able to forget me!" Ben Nobler turned his horse and rode back towards his father.

"Let's ride!"

Heath rode knowing that he was in trouble, and he didn't think that his big brother would be there to help save his neck.

**Chapter 9**

Ben Nobler's smirking face appeared in the corner of Heaths eye. Turning his head slightly Heath could see Ben riding next to him.

"War will change a man." Ben's raspy voice reached Heath as they rode. "Take you for example, just a snot nosed kid from nowhere, joins the cavalry, saves some men in Arkansas, but forgets his friend."

Heath's face must have shown surprise, Ben laughed. "Did ya forget that little scuffle we had in Arkansas? I think it was just before you ended up in Carterson." A slight shiver went down Heath's back when he thought of Carterson, and all the hell they had gone through.

"You remember that scuffle don't ya boy?" Heath nodded, yes he remembered it, like he remembered all the other battles he had been in.

_Devil's Backbone. _

_A victory had been made when the Union forces won the Battle of Prairie grove, pushing the confederates back towards Ft. Smith. In this area it was a fight for control of Indian Territory. The Rebs kept running till they reached Backbone Mountain. Reb forces got tired of running and made their next stand at the base of Devil's Backbone. They ambushed the advancing Union troops putting a stop to the union advancement. Commanding officers were yelling out orders, trying to get their troops to pull back and regroup. Everything was in cayause. Bullets sang over head or thumped into the trees surrounding Heath. Looking around he could see his friends falling under the pelting metal rain. Riders less horse were running in blind panic, fleeing the area. Cries of injured men and dieing horses from both sides filled the air._

_Heath fired at the advancing Rebs, as he moved back to regroup. As he moved back the sounds of the fighting began to diminish. He heard the soft moan on the other side of the tree that he was hid behind. Circling around he found a man. He had seen this man around the fires in the camps, he was always drawing. Paper was scarce, but this man always found something to draw on._

_Sitting down next to him Heath took in the severity of his wounds. The man had taken a bullet along his scalp and another in the shoulder. The scalp wound was still bleeding, taking an old dirty cloth Heath applied pressure to the head wound. The man opened his eyes; Heath gave him a slight smile. Movement to Heaths right brought another union solider to their spot. Heath recognized the approaching man. Sergeant O'Doul took cover behind the tree, next to the man he was ordered to find was hidden. Looking at the injured man on the ground, then back to Heath, "Colonel's need'n ya boy! He's go'in to put you and that rifle of yours to work."_

_Nodding towards the injured man, "See that he get's doctor' in?"_

_O'Doul nodded his head, "I'll do what I can for him. Medics are busy right now." He said as he took a look at the soldiers wounds. "He got a name?"_

"_Haven't asked." Said Heath as he prepared to leave, a hand reached out to stop him._

_Looking, down at the wounded man said, "Thanks. My name's Ben Nobler." Taking Ben's offered hand, Heath gave it a quick shake, releasing when O'Doul gave him a pat on his shoulder._

"_Better get goin' boy."_

**Chapter 9**

Ben Nobler's smirking face appeared in the corner of Heaths eye. Turning his head slightly Heath could see Ben riding next to him, a ghostly looking figure in the full moon's light.

"War will change a man." Ben's raspy voice reached Heath as they rode. "Take you for example, just a snot nosed kid from nowhere, joins the cavalry, saves some men in Arkansas, but forgets his friend."

Heath's face must have shown surprise, Ben laughed. "Did ya forget that little scuffle we had in Arkansas? I think it was just before you ended up in Carterson." A slight shiver went down Heath's back when he thought of Carterson, and all the hell they had gone through.

"You remember that scuffle don't ya boy?" Heath nodded; yes he remembered it, like he remembered all the other battles he had been in.

_Devil's Backbone, September 1, 1863. _

_Confederates had withdrawn from Ft. Smith. In this area it was a fight for control of Indian Territory. The Rebs kept running till they reached Backbone Mountain. Reb forces got tired of running and made their next stand at the base of Devil's Backbone. They ambushed the advancing Union troops putting a stop to the Union advancement. Commanding officers were yelling out orders, trying to get their troops to pull back and regroup. Everything was in cayause. Bullets sang over head or thumped into the trees surrounding Heath. Looking around he could see his friends falling under the pelting metal rain. Riders less horses were running in blind panic, fleeing the area. Cries of injured men and dieing horses from both sides filled the air._

_Heath fired at the advancing Rebs, as he moved back to regroup. As he moved back the sounds of the fighting began to diminish. He heard the soft moan on the other side of the tree that he was hid behind. Circling around he found a man. He had seen this man around the fires in the camps, he was always drawing. Paper was scarce, but this man always found something to draw on._

_Sitting down next to him Heath took in the severity of his wounds. The man had taken a bullet along his scalp and another in the shoulder. The scalp wound was still bleeding, taking an old dirty cloth Heath applied pressure to the head wound. The man opened his eyes; Heath gave him a slight smile. Movement to Heaths right brought another union solider to their spot. Heath recognized the approaching man. Sergeant O'Doul took cover behind the tree, next to the man he was ordered to find was hidden. Looking at the injured man on the ground, then back to Heath, "Colonel's need'n ya boy! He's go'in to put you and that rifle of yours to work."_

_Nodding towards the injured man, "See that he get's doctor' in?"_

_O'Doul nodded his head, "I'll do what I can for him. Medics are busy right now." He said as he took a look at the soldier's wounds. "He got a name?"_

"_Haven't asked'em." said Heath as he prepared to leave, a hand reached out to stop him._

_Looking, down the wounded man said, "Thanks. My name's Ben Nobler." Taking Ben's offered hand, Heath gave it a quick shake, releasing when O'Doul gave him a pat on his shoulder._

"_Better get goin' boy." Heath nodded again and slipped off into the thick underbrush._

_O'Doul helped Nobler off the ground. "Let's get you to a medic."_

"_What's he do?" asked Ben as he accepted the Sergeants hand up._

_O'Doul gave a grunt, "That boy is a sniper. He's one of the best. He got separated from his company. Colonel located them and the boy has been fight'n his way back to'em."_

"_How did he get separated from them?" asked Ben as he and the Sergeant made their way back to the edge of the forest where the rest of the regiment was gathering._

"_Doin' his job. He got caught behind enemy lines. We found him. He had a graze on his thigh, a little worse for wear, but he's a tough kid."_

_Heath made it through the woods til he found Colonel Cloud, snapping a salute, he stood waiting for the Colonel to give him his orders._

_Finishing his business he turned to Heath._

_We are planning an assault. The 2__nd__ Kansas and the 6__th__ Missouri Cavalry are going to lead, with Rabb's Battery doing most of the work." He paused looking at Heath, realizing for the first time just how young the boy looked standing there in front of him. Col. Cloud sighed, hating what he was about to have this boy to do. "I need you to take point. With your skill I need you to take out any and all officers you can."_

"_Yes sir." Was the soft reply from the boy. Heath turned to leave when the Col.'s voice said, "Don't take any unnecessary chances. We'll move with your first shot." Nodding again Heath moved off through the gathered men. As he passed some of the men would pat him on the back and wish him well. Heath picked up his pace and disappeared into the woods._

When the fighting had ended, the Union had lost 16 men and scattered the remaining Confederate forces. Heath had rejoined his regiment, shortly after that, never seeing Ben Nobler again.

**Chapter 10**

The marshal glanced at the clock that seemed to be ticking a bit louder than normal. It was only six o'clock PM. Earlier Joe had sent Sam back to the hotel. After the shocking find out at the Lewis ranch, the man needed some rest. Joe knew that the doctor would see to that. He had also dispatched a deputy out to the Lewis Ranch, along with the undertaker, to take care of Lewis's body.

Nick had left the jailhouse to saddle the horses. Both he and Joe had figured that the raid would be moved up an hour and they had no time to waste. Tying the saddled horses to the hitching post, Nick reentered the jailhouse; Joe tossed a rifle to Nick as he entered. Grabbing the other rifle off of the desk, and the saddle bag that held extra ammunition, the two men headed back out the door. Looking at Nick's face, Joe knew they had better get out to the sheep camp.

Before either man could mount their horses, twenty hot and sweaty horses, their riders clad in blue uniforms, clattered into town, raising the dust from the street as they approached the jailhouse. The command to halt was given and a young Lieutenant stepped down from his horse.

"Marshal, we were dispatched from Fort Bridger to assist you in apprehending the raiders that are attacking the sheep camps."

Looking puzzled, Joe looked at Nick who shrugged his shoulder equally confused at their arrival.

"Well, Lieutenant, we could use all the help we can get," said Joe, "I do however have a question. How is it you all are here?"

"We received a wire informing us about the possibility of a range war," the Lieutenant relied. "I am Lieutenant James Derricks." Nick thought that the young man represented a stiff board more than a man in a uniform. Experience would help Derricks to relax.

"A wire?" asked Joe.

"Ahem." A soft cough came from behind him. Turning, Joe saw Nancy standing on the boardwalk in front of the jailhouse. "I hope you don't mind marshal, but I sent the wire."

"I'm glad ya did." He said, as he stepped up onto the boardwalk to stand next to her. He looked into her beautiful brown eyes and longed to kiss her lips. She gave him a smile that made him smile in return.

Noticing that both people on the boardwalk were blushing, Nick looked at the ground then turned to make like he was checking his saddle cinch.

"Ah, Marshal we need to get riding, if we are going to be any help to those people and Heath."

Joe waved his hand, but kept his eyes on Nancy, as he stepped closer to her.

"I'm glad ya did," he said, even though he wanted to give her a kiss. He liked this woman… no, he loved this woman.

Blushing, Nancy bowed her head. Turning to look at Joe, "you had better get going." Joe tuned to leave, as Nancy grabbed his hand to stop him, she whispered, "Be careful, Joe." She quickly gave him a soft kiss on the lips then hurried back to the restaurant.

Joe turned to have all eyes on him; he gave a small smile as he felt his face turn red. Taking the offered reins from Nick he stepped into the saddle. The horses, feeling the urgency surged forward heading out of town.

"Hold on little brother, the cavalry is coming," whispered Nick to himself.

The raiders had dismounted, giving time for Sanders and his men to get into position. A rider approached a small group of men. Ben and his father were a part of the group. Heath had taken up a spot that left him alone, but where he could also watch Ben. He could just make out the rider talking to the men. Then, turning his horse the messenger rode off.

Ben detached himself from the group and made his way towards Heath. "It's time to put your skills to work, Barkley." Ben's low rough voice came through the darkness. As if to read Heath's thoughts, he continued, "Don't plan on your brother helping you. I don't think he or that two bit marshal are smart enough to figure out we moved things up."

"Why me?" Heath asked, figuring that if he was to do this and then be killed, he might as well know what the reason had been. Ben looked at him then shook his head.

"You don't know. You really don't know, do you?" Ben turned his back to him hands on his hips and head bowed. Slowly, Ben turned back towards Heath.

"After you left and rejoined your unit, do you know what happen to me?"

"No. Why don't you tell me?"

"Well I am sure you heard of Andersonville, the biggest hell hole that no man should have to suffer in. Do you know what it's like to be in hell?"

Heath looked Ben in the eye. "I know what it's like, living everyday, with little or no food or water. Hoping that this will be the day you are rescued, and when no one comes you pray for death. You suffer beatings because, you can't tell them the location of troops or because they just wanted to have a little bit of fun." Memories of Carterson swirled in Heath's mind, and he shook himself, trying to clear out the fog that crept into his brain when he thought about his time in the prison camp. Now was not the time to be losing his head.

"So yeah, I know what hell is like. You still haven't answered my question," Heath said. Ben's sudden and unprovoked fury made him take a step back.

"You left me!" he nearly screamed. "If you had stayed with our regiment we would never have been captured!" Ben's declaration stunned Heath.

"If I would have stayed?" asked Heath, "I wasn't part of your regiment. I wasn't part of the cavalry. I was a sniper that got shot and lost behind enemy lines. One of your scouts stumbled upon me when your regiment headed south after the battle in Prairie Grove."

"I know what your job was! You were there to protect us. Since you had come to the regiment, we had had fewer casualties. We even won most of the skirmishes we were in. Everyone looked to you for protection. And when you left us, all hell broke loose. They had sent us east to Tennessee to protect the railroad, only we all ended up in that prison!"

Ben's desperation hit Heath full force. Every regiment and company had them. Good luck charms, men whom seemed to have an uncanny ability to ward off danger and harm from himself and those around him. That was how Ben Nobler had seen him. Ben believed that after he had returned to his regiment, that all the good luck had left also, thus the reason for blaming Heath for his imprisonment in Andersonville.

"Your friend Sergeant Connors talked nonstop about you while we were in that hell hole. He talked your praises right up to the moment he died, and then he cursed you for leaving us. He believed as I did, like a lot of us did. You could have saved us.Now you're here to protect us from them." Ben said it softly and pointed into the darkness towards the sounds of the sheep. Ben turned and faced Heath again, "You will protect us or you will die."

The only sounds in the sheep camp were the soft bleating of the sheep. The tired sheep herders had turned in, except for the guards. The dogs were the first to hear the approaching horses; they stood and looked into the darkness, seeing things that only their eyes could detect. Their sensitive ears followed the sounds. Seeing the dogs become alert, so did the guards.

A snort from a horse alerted the men the direction from which the riders were approaching, but they need not have worried, as a bullet ripped through the first guard's shoulder. He fell to the ground, still managing to hold onto his rifle.

As the single rifle shot echoed across the hills, it signaled the other raiders to surge upon the sleeping and seemingly unprotected camp.

Chapter 11

Nick Barkley had no patience for this waiting game. He along with the US Marshal Joe Causemaker and a small cavalry regiment had made it to the sheep camp just after Nobler and his men had arrived. The cavalry scout had reported that Nobler's men had the sheep camp surrounded and that he had found a place where they could get a few men into the camp almost undetected.

Nick and Joe volunteered and with five cavalry soldiers they snuck into the camp and hid in the wagons. Joe had one of the cavalry men switch places with the sheep herder on guard.

The guard, falling then the echo of the rifle report told everyone the attack was to begin.

It didn't take long for the first wave of raiders to sweep into the camp, firing at the sheep and into the tents. It took all of Joe's and Nick's will power not to show their hand to soon.

The first wave receded, and the second wave rolled in. Sheep scattered, some falling under the raider's bullets. Nick looked at Joe both hoping that Lt Derricks would soon spring their surprise.

Now was the time to try to even the odds. Rising up to see over the wagon side they began to returned fire. Even the man on the ground who had taken cover under the wagon was firing. The sound of gunfire erupted on the outer edge of the camp. Nick and Joe looked at each other and smiled.

"The cavalry has arrived!" yelled Joe as he reloaded his rifle.

Nick nodded, "None to soon either!" he fired his rifle at a passing raider. "Where's Heath?"

"That was an excellent shot!" Ben patted Heath on the back as he lowered the rifle. Heath felt sick to his stomach, he hadn't wanted to hurt those people. He had wanted to help them.

They watched as the first group led by Sanders poured into the camp, destroying those peoples dreams of a better life. When the first group retreated the second group hit doing further damage to the camp.

But the odds soon changed and the camp came alive with returning gunfire. Men were firing from the beds of the wagons, and from the tents the sheep herders fired at the raiders. But the best sound came from the cavalry bugle.

Ben hissed a long curse, drawing his gun as he turned on Heath. Heath didn't have time to react as Ben turned pointing his gun at him.

A black and white blur leapt into the air, hitting Ben's arm as he pulled the trigger. Heath recognized the black and white object at his feet.

It was Blu, the young Border collie he had befriended.

**Chapter 11**

Nick Barkley had no patience for this waiting game. He, along with the US Marshal Joe Causemaker and a small cavalry regiment had made it to the sheep camp just after Nobler and his men had arrived.

The cavalry scout had reported that Nobler's men had the sheep camp surrounded and that he had found a place where they could get a few men into the camp almost undetected. Nick and Joe volunteered and with five cavalry soldiers.

Upon entering the camp Joe and Nick found the sheepherders had taken Heath's warning. Ed Steele explained to them that they had sent the women and children to a small mining community ten miles north. At nightfall the men then set up guards. These men know they were out numbered and outgunned but where still willing to fight.

Joe had one of the cavalry men switch places with the sheep herder on guard and place the others between the two wagons.

The guard, falling then the echo of the rifle report told everyone the attack was to begin.

It didn't take long for the first wave of raiders to sweep into the camp, firing at the sheep and into the tents. It took all of Joe's and Nick's will power not to show their hand to soon.

Nick's concern for Heath was always on his mind and showed as he fired at the raiders. He hesitated just long enough to make sure that the rider wasn't Heath. His concern was growing, Heath hadn't been seen yet.

The first wave receded, and the second wave rolled in. Sheep scattered, some falling under the raider's bullets. Nick looked at Joe, both hoping that the young cavalry officer, Lt. Derricks would soon spring their surprise.

Now was the time to try to even the odds. Rising up to see over the wagon side they began to returned fire. Even the man on the ground who had taken cover under the wagon was firing. The sound of gunfire erupted on the outer edge of the camp. Nick and Joe looked at each other and smiled.

"The cavalry has arrived!" yelled Joe as he reloaded his rifle.

Nick nodded, "None to soon either!" he fired his rifle at a passing raider. "Where's Heath?"

"That was an excellent shot!" Ben patted Heath on the back as he lowered the rifle. Heath felt sick to his stomach, he hadn't wanted to hurt those people. He had wanted to help them.

They watched as the first group led by Sanders poured into the camp, destroying those peoples dreams of a better life. When the first group retreated the second group hit doing further damage to the camp.

But the odds soon changed and the camp came alive with returning gunfire. Men were firing from the beds of the wagons, and from the tents the sheep herders fired at the raiders. But the best sound came from the cavalry bugle.

There was a crazy look in Ben's eyes. His mind screamed that if he, Ben Nobler couldn't have the power of Heath's luck, then no one was going to get it. Desperation to kill the man in front of him overrode any of the thoughts that had once been Ben Nobler. Ben hissed a long curse, drawing his gun as he turned on Heath. Heath didn't have time to react as Ben turned pointing his gun at him.

A black and white blur leapt into the air, hitting Ben's arm as he pulled the trigger. Heath recognized the black and white object at his feet.

It was Blu, the young Border collie he had befriended.

The gun hit the ground as Ben held his right arm close to his body. He quickly waved away the pain, as the need to complete his mission to over his mind.

Taking advantage of Heath's distraction and charged into him, hitting Heath at the waist. Both fell to the ground with Ben on top. Heath threw a right punch catching Ben's chin. Ben grabbed Heath's head and began to pound it into the ground.

The feel of cold metal in Ben's neck brought a stop to his assault on Heath.

"Touch him again and I'll pull the trigger." Nick growled. Ben released the dazed Heath and raised his hands. "Get off' of him." Slowly Ben rose to his feet.

"Now back away, easy. I won't hesitate to kill ya the next time." Nick directed Ben where to go with his gun.

Joe materialized out of the darkness, "I got'em covered, Nick. Go see to your brother."

Squatting down next to Heath, Nick put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "You all right little brother?"

"I'll let ya know when everything quits spinnin'." Nick gave a little laugh as he took Heath's raised arm to help him up.

When he was standing but leaning heavily onto Nick, Heath thanked his brother. Nick nodded and patted his back, "Just glad to see you're not hurt."

"How did we do?" asked Heath standing on steadier legs.

"We got'em all." said Joe as he tied Ben's hands, "Sheriff Nobler is dead and Sanders took a bullet in the shoulder, but he'll make it. The sheep herders didn't suffer any losses."

Heath breathed a sigh of relief, until he seen the pile of black and white fur lying in the grass. "Blu!"

"What?" asked Nick as he watched his brother stumble towards the dog.

"He's one of the shepherd's dogs. Blu, he saved my life. He jumped at Ben as he pulled the trigger." Heath fell to his knees, and began to stroke the soft black and white coat. "Thanks boy." He whispered.

Nick helped Heath back to his feet, "Come on boy, let's get you to town. You need to have a doc check you out."

The train pulled into the station on time. The conductor moved through the cars calling out their stop. "This is the Green River stop, folks!"

A tall man, with dark hair and blue eyes, grabbed up his brown jacket and stepped off the train. He glanced once again to the wire, he held in his hand, rereading it for what seemed the hundredth time then quickly folded a piece of paper and put it into his jacket pocket. The sender was a mystery, it had been signed "Nancy". Who ever she was, he was grateful for her concern; however he would feel better once he had seen and talked to his brothers, then and only then would he relax.

"Jarrod Barkley?" asked a tall man wearing range clothes and sporting a badge on his vest.

"Yes?" Jarrod answered.

"I'm Marshal Joe Causemaker," said Joe sticking out his hand.

"Pleased to meet you Marshal." Jarrod said, taking the offered hand, "Can you tell me where I might find my brothers?"

"They are at the hotel. I'll take ya to'em."

"They are alright?" asked Jarrod as they moved toward the hotel.

"Yes sir. We had us a bit of trouble last night. But we got it all taken care of."

"I see," replied Jarrod, now worried that he might have to defend his brothers in a court of law.

Once at the hotel, Joe led Jarrod up a flight of stairs and stopped several doors down. He tapped lightly on the door. Nick pulled it open.

"Joe!" he greeted the marshal with a smile. Looking past Joe he saw Jarrod.

"Jarrod! When did you get here?"

"How's Heath?" asked Joe before Jarrod could reply. Stepping into the room Jarrod found Heath on a bunk and appeared to be asleep. Going to his younger brother's side he placed a hand on his forehead.

"I'm alright, Jarrod. Doc said I have a slight concussion."

Jarrod smiled at him then looked at Nick.

"Mind telling me what happened?"

"We bought some horses," piped up Heath. Jarrod looked back to the man lying on the bunk.

"And how did you end up with a concussion?"

"Ya know, Nancy is the best cook in this town and she just so happens to own a fine café. I think we should talk about this over supper," said Joe as he pulled Nick out the door. Jarrod helped steady Heath as they made their way down the stairs, heading towards the café.

**Two Days Later….**

The last of the horses were loaded onto the train's stock car. Nick and Heath dusted themselves off, then climbed over the fence to stand next to Jarrod and Joe.

"We'll that's the last of'em," said Heath.

"Train leaves in about twenty minutes," said Jarrod.

"Yeah, been away from the ranch longer than I wanted to be," said Nick as he thought about all the work that didn't get done.

"It was doing just fine when I left, Nick." smiled Jarrod.

"Well if Joe doesn't make up his mind about a certain lady, I just might have to pursue her myself." kidded Nick as he watched Joe's face turn bright red.

"Don't worry Nick, she found herself a good looking cowboy to settle down with." said Joe shyly. Heath smiled at his new friend.

"What did she say?" he asked.

Joe's smile said it all and the three men gathered around to congratulate him.

A wagon coming down the street caught Heath's attention. It was one of the sheepherder's wagons. It pulled to a stop in front of the stock yard.

Heath stepped forward to greet the men climbing down from the wagon seat.

"Heath, I am glad we caught ya before you left," said Ed Steele as he came to stand next to Heath.

"We wanted to thank you and your brother for all ya did to help save our stock," said Jules McAllemond.

"I think you all thanked us the other night and then again last night," replied Nick as he stepped to stand next to Heath.

"Well, we had to bring ya something. Kind of a thank you gift," said Jules as he moved to the back of the wagon. Jules lowered the tailgate then stepped back around to face the two brothers. As he moved a black and white dog followed him.

Heath held his breath, it couldn't be, but yes there he was, Blu.

Blu stepped around Jules and straight for Heath. Heath crouched down as the dog came to him. He looked at Jules.

"He wasn't hurt as bad as we had thought. The bullet just grazed him on the shoulder."

"Heath, we would like you to have him. He hasn't listened to us since he had met you. I don't know how he will work on cattle, but he's a good dog and will give you his all."

Heath stood up. "I ain't ever had a dog before. I thank you, Jules and you to Ed." Heath reached down and patted Blu on the head.

Nick was about to say something against taking the dog back to the ranch, but a hand reached out to stop him.

"Let it be, Nick," said Jarrod as he watched Heath and Blu. "Remember that old dog we had?"

"Yeah, Jarrod I do. Best dog we ever had on the ranch." said Nick looking at Jarrod, then back over towards Heath. "You're right, big brother, every boy needs a good dog." Jarrod patted Nick on the back and smiled.

THE END


End file.
